Cruciatus Nox
by ghosteye99
Summary: WARNING! MAJOR SPOILERS FOR HARRY POTTER BOOK 6 HBPBasically some ideas as to what happened to Severus Snape just after the events of one particularly bad night at Hogwarts ...all done in easy, bite sized chapters for the busy reader
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Cruciatus Nox (Latin Night Of Torture)

**Fandom:** Harry Potter

**Length:** 3 Chapters (3,200 approximately words overall)

**Rating:** PG 13 +

**Warnings:** **Major spoilers for Harry Potter book 6 ! (The Half-Blood Prince),** verbal abuse, mild swearing, alcohol abuse.

**Setting:** Post-HBP, one idea I came up with re' the events that may have immediately followed Severus Snape's flight from Hogwarts.

**Disclaimer:** J. is the creator and true owner of the characters of Hogwarts and the wizarding world, and no infringement of copyright is intended. I'm just messing around with them for my own amusement.

**Author's Note:** I've been trying to stick as close to canon evidence as possible re' my analysis of why Snape did what he did on that night, though I've also inserted my fair share of guesswork. Also, my Latin is less than basic so I apologise in advance if the title sucks badly & doesn't make any sense.

_**Chapter One - Flight**_

"DON'T ... CALL ME COWARD!" he screamed. Then that hippogriff flew at him, and he had to run. When he could get far enough away to do so, he apparated.

Back came the hard, familiar embrace of limbo. This time he welcomed the sensation, for the fleeting illusion of refuge it gave him. In the back of his mind, he half-wondered if it was possible for the horror of what he had just seen and done to be crushed out of him. And whether limbos such as this one would now the only places where he could still could be alone and free ... free even to think. But such thoughts could not develop further, for most of his mind had been focused on his destination.

He felt the pressure on his body suddenly release, and he could make out the crowd of robed figures in the room around him. A familiar voice - high and cold, addressed him by name: "Severus!" The Dark Lord apparently had deigned to mingle with his cronies whilst they waited for him - "I ssee that you are finally here" he continued. Two death eaters in the background wriggled slightly - they were restraining laughter, Severus could sense the amusement in their minds. He thought he heard someone on the other side of the room hold back a giggle.

Voldemort ignored them and approached him, stopping only when his knees were inches away from the face of the kneeling man. _A good position for him to kick from_, Severus thought without emotion. He had been keeping his mind clear for the Dark Lord's inspection, and his eyes focused on the ground. He heard Voldemort's voice above him demand in a sharper tone: "Why have you not brought the Potter boy with you?"

He suppressed his relief, for he had been expecting this question. Bowing his head lower, he said, "My Lord, it was necessary for me to ensure that Draco escaped safely. I told the others to leave him behind for you. I did not want to risk any further distractions from that than those which he had already given me".

Then he waited. Voldemort stood motionless before him. The tips of the Dark Lord's boots still hovered on the edge of his vision as he stared at the ground. He tried not to imagine them connecting with his face. Voldemort was angry, he could sense it - but he did not dare let himself dwell further on what could come out of that. It would not be good to give him ideas at such moments …

He could feel his mind begin to prickle. Legilimency. He quietly submitted to the mental examination. He had to let the Dark Lord see only what he wanted him to see – and nothing more. He dared not let himself breathe too loudly. The prickling sensation stopped. There was silence.

"Stand up, Severuss" Voldemort said.

Severus rose to his feet, standing to face Voldemort - eyes slightly lowered. Out of the corner of his eye he could glimpse Draco's pale features. There was a woman standing behind the boy, hands on his shoulders. She looked like Bellatrix. It was hard to tell beneath the hood. Greyback stood leering next to them. Voldemort began to walk in a slow circle around him. Again that prickling feeling.

When the sound of Voldemort's footsteps drew level with his back, Severus heard them stop. The death eaters stayed silent. He could vaguely sense tension, wariness in them. Some were eagerly hoping for entertainment, you did not need to be a Legillimens to see that …. He felt long, cold fingers suddenly snake themselves over his shoulders, then grip hard into his flesh. He saw the woman holding Draco begin to smile. One of his arms began to numb from Voldemort's nerve-grip. He kept his posture upright.

"Leave him behind for _me_, did you say? ... Are you certain that _wass _the whole reasson? Surely you of all people should have known the carelessness of doing that? You realisse, don't you, that you have just wasted for me an ideal opportunity to help bring matters to a speedier conclusion? Sometimes I wonder about your depth of commitment, Severuss," said Voldemort, digging his fingers a little harder into Severus's shoulder.

"It is exactly as I have said it, My Lord". Silence. "And on my own orders, you said?" The gentlest tickle of Legilimency. "Yes, My Lord" Severus replied. "You ssseem very sure that you had heard … my _Orders_ … correctly" … Voldemort's mind remained inscrutable. The hands remained clamped on his shoulder, finger still pressing too hard on a nerve.

Then, without warning he let go. "The resst of you are dismissed to the lobby!" Voldemort commanded. "I and Severus need to speak alone". Reluctantly, the death-eaters filed out of the drawing room. The door closed, and Severus heard its lock click. "Stay where you are" Voldemort said, while selecting an armchair to make himself comfortable in. His wand was out.

As soon as he was comfortably settled, Voldemort fixed Severus with a baleful gaze, and he found himself rising slowly from the ground. He forced himself to remain composed ... and then sensed a tickle of disappointment in the Dark Lord. Had he been hoping for a more entertaining response?

"You are, of course, aware that the privileges I have been besstowing on you do have their price?" Voldemort said, while Severus continued to levitate higher. "I am aware, my Lord" Severus replied. "And don't you also think ..." Voldemort leaned forward in his armchair, wand trained on the other man "… that a man of your own particular ... _abilitiess_, Severus ... should have been quite capable of making at least one serious attempt at obtaining Potter for me - whilst still assisting Master Malfoy, of coursse?"

"That is also true, My Lord" said Severus, who was now about three feet above the floor. Voldemort leaned back into his armchair as though it was a throne, his hands resting on its arms. A long, bony finger toyed lazily with the patterns of a lace doily. He continued: "Well then, according to some of your companions, not only did you fail to capture the boy, you alsso had - apparently - even been assisting him. Maybe you yoursself have an explanation for that?" Severus noticed that he had stopped levitating upwards.

"I do! My Lord!" Severus gasped. Voldemort was slowly turning him around in the air. "I had been careless! I had been too busy with the trivial matter of settling a personal score with the boy, and in the midst of my self-indulgence, I forgot to think about capture ..." he had turned to the point where he was floating horizontally. "That sstill doesn't explain why you were apparently trying to help him!" Voldemort snapped. "Tell me no lies! Why didn't you try to take him!"

"I forgot! My Lord, I let myself become lost in the fight, and I forgot!" Severus gasped, his body continuing to turn …"You yourself know just how much I hate the brat! You know what I feel about his father! You know how much I dream of vindicating myself with both of them! I did not think to take him immediately, when I had the chance! The temptation to toy with his feeble attacks was too much, My Lord! By the time I remembered what it was I should do, that hippogriff attacked! I lost my chance and I had to get away! My Lord, I missed my chance because I had been self-indulgent - I swear!" By now, Severus was suspended directly upside-down.

Voldemort smiled slightly. He noticed one of his servant's fingers had begun to jump in a satisfying way. That old schoolyard memory of Severus's - the one that he borrowed from Potter's dreams - was turning out to be quite useful. Yes, he definitely would be making use of it again should the fool slip up in the future. Maybe in front of company next time ... he flicked his wand, and Severus crashed to the floor with a small yelp.

"You ssilly man, it's only your collarbone!" Voldemort hissed, while Severus struggled to his knees - one hand clutching at his shoulder. "Please accept my humblest apologies, My Lord!" he rasped, trying to bow (and wincing as he did so). Voldemort was unimpressed. "I think you may be in need of a stronger reminder not to lose your head next time" he mused. Looking disdainfully at the man crouched on the floor in front of him; he adjusted his grip on the wand.

Severus was breathing more heavily now, and flinching slightly with each breath. Voldemort felt his mood improving. "I admit that I probably have been more than a little ssoft on you lately, Severuss" he said, "As a result, you have grown careless and forgotten what your true priorities are. This iss as good a time as any to remedy this".

"_**CRUCIO!**_ "

Voldemort directed the curse so that the brunt of it hit the injured shoulder. Severus felt a nova of white-hot pain bloom outward to his extremities. His nerves felt as though they were aflame. He felt himself scream.

From some soft, dim place beyond his universe of agony, Severus thought he heard a voice above his tangled, disembodied thoughts ... _could somebody please make this stop?_ ... it sounded familiar ... _why can't I make myself think properly? _... was it the Dark Lord who was speaking? ... _My Lord, this hurts_ ... it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying above all this pain ... _it wasn't this bad the last time he did it to me _... he seemed to be saying something about paying for carelessness and cowardice ... _why is it so much worse this time?_ ...

Then the flood of pain stopped. Severus rolled over onto his uninjured side. He was vaguely aware that every part of his body seemed to be humming and tingling. He wondered inanely if his fingers were jumping in time to his twanging nerves. He realised that his mouth was open, his tongue draped on the floor - and that he was also probably drooling.

As sense returned to him, he realised that he had probably just endured one of the more savage sessions of cruciatus in his life experience so far. But on the brighter side, the Dark Lord's mood seemed a little better than it had been earlier.

A sharp pain hit him like a kick in the tailbone. "Sstand up!" Voldemort ordered from his armchair. Severus wobbled to his feet, and managed a wavering bow, "My Lord, you wish for my report now?" But Voldemort dismissed him. "The other witnessess have told me enough for now. What I ssaw in your mind merely confirms it. Go, Sseverus Snape" he said curtly, "We shall discuss matters in further depth later. There are others I wish to confer with tonight, and you are wassting my time".

_**(to be continued)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Cruciatus Nox (2)

**Fandom:** Harry Potter

**Author:** Thestralgrin

**Rating:** M 17 + (Adult themes - alcohol abuse, some violence)

**Warnings:** **Major spoilers for Harry Potter book 6 ! (The Half-Blood Prince),** character death, violence, torture, verbal abuse, mild swearing, alcohol abuse.

**Disclaimer:** J.K.Rowling is the creator and true owner of the characters of Hogwarts and the wizarding world, and no infringement of copyright is intended. I'm just messing around with them for my own amusement.

CRUCIATUS NOX 

**Chapter 2 – Coming Home**

Severus apparated next to a tangle of half-dead brambles that grew next to a polluted ditch. Only then did he dare to cast the healing charms that his shoulder needed. Spinner's End was but a short walk away - it was well into still the small hours of night, so he would be home for hours before it got too light. He sincerely hoped that _this_ time when he came home, he would not catch Wormtail yet again tippling into his best wine ...

He was to be disappointed in that. After his insistent rapping had finally turned to kicks, the door eventually opened. He could see Wormtail leering from behind it, the vermin's face falling when he recognised who it was. Pettigrew had also clearly been drinking - he had that drunk-faced look about him, and he reeked suspiciously of the 1987 Macedonian elf wine he had ordered him - on pain of cruciatus - not to touch. Clearly the rat was untrustworthy to the point of idiocy.

Severus pointed his wand at the door, flinging it backwards with the force of his favourite blasting hex. Having endured a particularly bad evening, he wasn't in the best of moods to forgive. Striding into the living room, he curtly flicked his wand around the room, picking up Wormtail's mess and dumping it in a neat pile in one of the corners. He intended to make the vermin deal with it later. Turning to the table, he noticed with a wrench of anger that the quarter-filled bottle was not the '87 Macedonian, but the '74 Santorini. His best.

As he was salvaging what he could with a refill charm, Wormtail entered the room. Apparently, he had recovered from being stunned by the blasted door. "Eh, what have you been doin' with my shtuff?" he whined. Severus was not in the best of moods for tolerating whiners either.

"Get up to your room, you miserable piece of rat turd!" he said, quietly. "We'll have a little chat about your general untrustworthiness later. Now go!" "Ehh?" Wormtail slurred, "I don' like you callin' me that - why don' you try talkin' to me with a little more reshpect, Shnivellus". _Snivellus_ … ! The imbecile had the nerve to use that word in his own house.

Severus carefully placed the bottle down on the table. He would need it soon enough when he was finished. Slowly turning around, he faced Pettigrew with a grim little smile on his face. "Eh? Wash you goin' pointin' your wand at me for, Shnape?" Severus answered by causing Wormtail's shoes to smoulder. "You shall watch what you say to me in my own house, rat" he said quietly. "Now will you finally excuse yourself, or do I need to use further persuasion?"

"No I wont!" said Wormtail, in a petulant squawk, stroking his silvery arm in agitation. "Thish is my housh now too an' I wont let myshelf be bullied aroun' by a ugly greashy coward like yourshelf ... " _Coward_. _Snivellus_ …. This was far more than what Severus needed to deal with in one night. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU PESTILENT PIECE OF WORTHLESS FILTH AND DONT SHOW THAT LICE-RIDDEN FACE OF YOUR'S AGAIN UNTIL I _PERSONALLY_ DECIDE TO COME UP AND GET YOU!" he screamed, aiming a series of well-placed blasts by Pettigrew's smoking shoes.

The man fled, bolting up the stairs to his room. "And don't go sneaking down here, either!" he added, casting a temporary blocking ward on the staircase for good measure. Then he locked the door. Finally. At last, he was alone. Making his way back to the bottle that waited for him on the table, Severus found an armchair to slump into. Wand in one hand and bottle in the other, he ripped out the cork with his teeth, and then proceeded to drown away the memories of that night.

The sun was already well up by the time Severus re-sealed the bottle, and sent it back to its cellar. The binge only did a little to calm his nerves, but at least it had fogged the throbbing in his shoulder. There was a possibility that he could even catch some sleep if he made an attempt at it now. He drew the curtains tight against the stinging daylight - another thing that he didn't need now. _Would they be burying Albus today or tomorrow?_ he wondered. Only then did the full impact of the previous night come back to him.

Albus was gone.

The one person who had ever really come close to having any concern for him, maybe the only real friend in his life. Dead by his own request, and by Severus's own hand. Killed to save a boy from the soul-splintering taint of murder, and to save himself from the consequences of a death-vow.

_What will happen now?_ He wondered. There were only four things he could think of that seemed certain at the moment. Firstly, he was still bound by one part of the vow he had taken. Though killing Albus Dumbledore had released Severus from two parts of it - a third part of it remained active: that where he had promised to protect Draco to the best of his ability.

There was also the matter of his obligations to the Potter boy - both with the life-debt that he still owed to the boy's dead father, and the promise he had made to Albus to watch over him. The fact that the two boys were about to become mortal enemies (if not so already) would make it infinitely harder to keep to those vows ...

Thirdly, there was Voldemort. As far as he knew, the Dark Lord still considered him one of his top servants. Not that this necessarily meant he was safer from the old madman than the other death-eaters. For how did that saying go? The one he heard from his Muggle father once?

_"Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer"_

Voldemort himself would have known of that one as well, being of the same blood mix as he. It would be foolish to be reassured by that apparent closeness to the Dark Lord's side. For all he knew, he was probably there so as to be more closely watched. Straying too far from his side was not a valid option for him.

Finally ... last night he had killed before witnesses, which meant that Severus was now a wanted man. There were wards he had cast around his home to warn against any approaching aurors, but he could not count on himself being safe here. It was most likely he would have another sudden house move to cope with soon. Where to hide next? He didn't know, except that it probably would be some other hole that the Dark lord deemed suitable for him. He should probably be expecting a message from _there_ soon enough.

But now, most of all he needed to sleep, before the alcohol wore off and the memories returned. As he cast yet another protective ward (with aurors after him now, there was no such thing as excess caution), he wondered about Wormtail, who was still locked in his room. He probably would need to use the toilet by now … _No, let him suffer. If he needs to go that badly, he can turn into a rat and go mess in some corner. _At that thought, Severus permitted himself a slight chuckle. Ten minutes later, he was asleep in the armchair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Cruciatus Nox (3)

**Fandom:** Harry Potter

**Author:** Thestralgrin

**Rating:** M 17 + (Adult themes - alcohol abuse, some violence)

**Warnings:** **Major spoilers for Harry Potter book 6 ! (The Half-Blood Prince),** character death, violence, torture, verbal abuse, mild swearing, alcohol abuse.

**Disclaimer:** J.K.Rowling is the creator and true owner of the characters of Hogwarts and the wizarding world, and no infringement of copyright is intended. I'm just messing around with them for my own amusement.

CRUCIATUS NOX Chapter 3 – The Morning After 

He blinked awake to an aching back, a throbbing hangover and a pain-inducing racket of shouts and banging from upstairs. Wormtail. So he wanted to be let out did he ... Without thinking, Severus found himself automatically moving his wand to cast the release charm. "FINALLY!" Wormtail shouted (the sound of which tore through Severus's forebrain like a train accident), then he proceeded to gallop down the staircase to the bathroom (each thump of his feet like a sledgehammer to his skull ... oh Merlin shouldn't that vermin at least have the decency to have a hangover too?), and slammed the door (remind myself to hex his breakfast, he thought after wincing).

He rubbed his face with his free hand, trying to remember a dream (Pettigrew's bathroom cacophony wasn't helping him) ... it was something to do with him being a boy again - usually the type of dream that he hated - but for some reason it didn't feel so bad this time. What was it he was doing? Sitting in a chair, being comforted by someone? That must be right ... who was it? An old wizard with a long beard, from what he could remember.

Wormtail made a long, loud & satisfied "Ahhhh, that's better!", followed by flushing. Severus reminded himself that it would be a very good idea to hex his dinner as well. What was the dream again? ... that's right, he was a small boy sitting on a chair, talking to an old man with a long silver beard who was giving him wise words and comfort. That's right, the old man was wearing bright coloured robes. He seemed familiar - for the love of Merlin! Severus realised that he should know that man - why was his brain so foggy that he couldn't?

Silence from the bathroom, Wormtail had not emerged. Severus's hangover-enhanced hearing detected the clinks & rattles of shaving. Pettigrew would be relatively quiet for a minute or two, then - oh thank goodness for small mercies like that. Now, there was more to the dream - but why couldn't he recognise the old man? He was sure that he knew him ...

Severus began to raise his hand to rub his temples, ease the throbbing and help him to think. He realised that he was still holding his wand, must have fallen asleep with it in his hand. He moved to put it in his pocket ... and felt something else in his hand, next to the wand. Felt like a quill, only less soft - had someone slipped something into his hand while he slept? Who?

He picked up the quill-like object to inspect it, and recognised it immediately. A phoenix feather, newly shed. Severus's breath stopped in his throat ... he realised who he had been dreaming about. It was Albus. The feather ... he was sure it was from Fawkes. But how?

The realisation came to him, one that seemed overwhelmingly to make sense. It was Albus who had just visited him in his dream, and who had just left a calling card that he knew Severus would not dismiss. It was just the elder wizard's way of letting him know. Whispering a few words of gratitude to his old mentor, he quietly made his way back to his own room. No, it wouldn't be good if he ever let Pettigrew see something like this. Not that he was happy anyway to let the rat put his scabby paw on a memento as precious as that ...


End file.
